The Rain Effects
by Sensu-No-Osoto
Summary: Patrick hates getting wet in the rain, but Pete loves it for just that reason. Peterick. Fluff. General/Romance. Rating: T.
1. Chapter 1

Hi! I know I haven't been active with my account, I'm sorry to say, but you already know the excuse if you've read my note on PTMHTPTB.

This is another Peterick, and I KNOW I've been writing a few of those rather than what I should be doing, which is working on 'College Surprises'. No excuse; honestly, I'm actually considering putting it up for adoption. Maybe. I haven't decided yet.

Pairing: Peterick (PetexPatrick)

Genre: General/Romance.

Rating: T.

It had started light at first, as it always usually does, with a tiny splash of water on your nose or maybe your cheek. When the tiny sprinkles became as heavy as maybe feathers, you would take out your umbrella, and probably put your hood up for good measure. When you got to your house, or car, or maybe the funeral home, you would find it was a waste of time, because as soon as it had started, it had stopped, and you would have opened that rusty umbrella for nothing.

That was a light shower. Not a rainstorm.

Two people were running through the park, scrambling over the hedges and overturned trashcans as the heavy rain pelted them repeatedly with no mercy. The man in the soaked grey jeans was squinting, trying in vain to see where the hell he was going with his blurred vision.

"Hey, Patrick, can you see anything?" He called loudly over the loud drum of the rain. The blonde behind him, who was gripping his hand for dear life, tripped over a crack in the sidewalk. His eyes were squeezed shut.

"No! Are you crazy? Every time I open my eyes I feel like they're getting hit with a soaked towel! Just slow down, Pete!"

Pete didn't answer as they approached the gates, making a sharp turn once outside of them and almost slamming into their savior, the black and blue Honda Civic. Pete fumbled around in his hoodie pocket, looking for the keys. He clicked the unlock button and Patrick let go of his hand, running over to the other side of the car and getting in quickly. Pete followed, slamming his door shut, let out a deep breath, and rested his head back against the headrest.

When he looked over at Patrick, he laughed. The chuberic man was slumped in his seat, his long blonde hair's unusual darkness hinting it was drenched - with the trucker's cap on it soaked - and his grey blue eyes glaring at the dashboard. He turned his look on Pete when he heard the other man laugh. "What is so funny, Wentz?"

Pete turned the ignition and backed off the curb onto the street, giving his Cheshire grin and shrugged.

"Nothing."

Patrick's glare intensified. "What. Is. So. Funny."

Rolling his eyes, Pete leaned across, giving Patrick a small kiss. "You are."

Patrick's glare softened a bit at the touch to his lips, but its full effect returned when he heard his answer. "And why ever am I so funny?"

Pete started down the road, holding up two fingers on one hand and keeping the other on the steering wheel. "Well, two things. One, I accomplished my mission; do you know why I was running?" Patrick's glare turned into a curious stare. "Why...?" "Well, it started to rain, right?" "Yes..." "And you know you have about zero sense of direction when it does-"

"I do not."

"-so I thought, maybe if I run off when the rain gets heavy, Patrick will definitely follow me because he'll never find his way back to the car alone in the rain, and since I'm a much faster runner than him-"

"You are not."

"-then he'll have to do something to keep up with me, and that something would be to hold my hand." "...That was your big accomplishment? To get me to hold your hand? I always do that." "Correction; my accomplishment was to get you to willingly show public affection." "...Pete, there wasn't even anyone in the-" "Shh. It still counts. It was in public. So there."

Patrick sighed, closing his eyes and leaning his head on Pete's shoulder when they stopped and a red light. It sounded like a very far-fetched and unusual plan, something most people wouldn't think of, but Pete was Pete. It made Patrick feel special. "So, what was the second thing?" As they neared their street, Pete let a smirk slowly creep across his face. "I got you _drenched._"

Patrick shivered as Pete said those words. Why could any moment stay innocent? Patrick gulped. "A-And why is that a good thing?" "Because..." Pete trailed his fingers through Patrick's hair; without having to look, he knew it always had the same effect it always did anyway.

"You hate it." He said simply.

Patrick looked up into Pete's face, his own total deadpan. "Are you serious." Pete raised his eyebrows in defense. "What? You hate it, and I don't know why."

Patrick fidgeted, looking down at the hem of his sweater. "Um...well..." Pete looked down for a split second at Patrick in interest. "What is it?" Patrick's face flushed with embarrassment. "You wouldn't understand."

This was not something Pete liked to hear.

He pulled into their driveway and stopped the car, turning to look at Patrick fully, taking his hands in his own. "Patrick, tell me."

Patrick bit his lip. "Well...um...ok. There was a time that my mom made some really awesome pumpkin squares for me to bring to school - oh, this is stupid - on my birthday, right, so...I brought...them, and well, I was kind of being bullied - don't give me that look Pete, it's not that big of a deal - at school, and my bullies really liked pumpkin squares...um, well, I'm just going to say that it was raining and i...told them i didn't want to give the squares. So they stole my squares and shoved me outside. The doors locked automatically; I was stuck out there for two hours before some teacher came looking for me." Patrick shrugged. "I guess that's why...I don't really like getting wet in the rain. I like rain, I do, but I don't think I've ever enjoyed being in it since that happened."

Pete was staring hard at Patrick, his brown eyes piercing Patrick's own blue, making him very self-conscious. Pete opened his door and said nothing, taking the key out. He went around to the other side and opened the door for the bewildered Patrick, offering his hand; his expression was unreadable. Patrick took it slowly and Pete tugged him up and out, into the still pouring rain.

He pulled Patrick up the rest of the driveway to the front door, holding him against it with an arm around his waist and another on his cheek. Patrick was looking up at him with wide eyes, his own arms at his sides uselessly. Pete pressed his mouth to Patrick's, kissing him deeply. Patrick's eyes slipped closed, and he gave a little moan when he felt the tip of a tongue poking his lips for entrance. He obliged. Pete pulled his mouth away, resting his forehead against Patrick's, their breathing both slightly ragged. Patrick, with a haze over his eyes and in his voice, asked, "W...What was that for?"

"Uh..."

Pete averted his eyes as he attempted to explain himself in a way that wouldn't sound stupid. "Since I know why you hate being in the rain, I just thought...well, it would be a shame for you to hate getting wet, because...you're at your best in the rain. When you're all pissed about rain and looking distraught, you're so gorgeous I just want to-" Pete realized Patrick's face was turning red again and altered it a bit to get back to the point. "You seem happier in a way, even after the incident. I thought...if I could find a way to get you to hate it less, like replacing bad memories with good ones, it would at least help a bit..."

Pete trailed off, concluding that what he said made no sense. He was about the mentally murder himself when he felt to hands grab his cheeks and pull his lips back towards Patrick's. He reacted instantaneously, ready for a tongue war, his own twisting with the other's.

Patrick pulled back and pecked his lips, smiling at Pete's dazed expression.

"Wha-"

"I don't hate being in the rain anymore."

Pete grinned, congratulating himself for not screwing up. "So Mr. Stump, is there anything else I can help you with?" Patrick smiled and breathed a sigh into Pete's ear. "Well, Mr. Wentz, sir, I'm afraid of what's under the bed."

"I can help with that."

~Owari~

Hope you enjoyed; I realized as soon as I wrote it - actually, while I was writing it, I knew it would be complete crap. It was supposed to be a completely different story line. But whatever. Fluff, make out, Peterick, rain. You get what you get and you don't get upset.

Going to put up another chapter, but it's basically the same one, except with the story closer to what I wanted in the first place. So, it's darker and more emotional; read that one if you rather angst-like fiction.


	2. Chapter 1: Alternate

So, yeah. Another Peterick. Surprise. Enjoy if you like, don't read if you don't. Not your ship, get off and swim.

Pairing: Peterick (PetexPatrick)

Genre: General/Romance.

Rating: T.

Two versions. This one's the gloomy, dark one. No disrespect to Mrs. Stumph.

It had started light at first, as it always usually does, with a tiny splash of water on your nose or maybe your cheek. When the tiny sprinkles became as heavy as maybe feathers, you would take out your umbrella, and probably put your hood up for good measure. When you got to your house, or car, or maybe the funeral home, you would find it was a waste of time, because as soon as it had started, it had stopped, and you would have opened that rusty umbrella for nothing.

That was a light shower. Not a rainstorm.

The heavy downpour on the roof was loud.

Very loud.

That was the only thing Patrick thought as he glared at the wall across from him, the shadows of the rain drops that was streaming down the window on the other side of the room very clear. The rain was beautiful, looking like crystal clear veins under even more transparent skin, or a drenched spider web in the aftermath of water being tossed onto it.

Patrick hated it.

The person next to him wrapped an arm around his waist, pressing his back against them. They kissed his neck.

"Trick...what's wrong?"

The corners of Patrick's mouth quirked slightly. He snuggled back slightly into the person's arms.

"Nothing Pete."

Pete frowned against Patrick's neck, nuzzling the blonde hair. He sighed, sending a swoosh of air over Patrick's neck, making him shiver slightly.

"I know when something's wrong, you know."

Patrick's mouth set back into a frown. He rolled out of Pete's grasp, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and putting his slippers on. He bowed his head, not looking at Pete, the blonde locks framing his face. His hands fisted at the sheets.

"I _said_ nothing's wrong, Pete."

Silence.

Patrick didn't look up. He could feel Pete's gaze on him, intensifying every second. He stood, walking to the bedroom door.

"I'm going to the bathroom."

He padded down the hall, the rain mocking him as he passed windows. He still didn't raise his head, keeping his eyes trained on the floor. When he reached the bathroom, he closed the door, not bothering to lock it. Pete would follow him anyway. He sat on the edge of the bath tub, looking out the window as, to his detest, the rain continued to fall.

Just as he predicted, not but a few minutes after he perched himself on the tub, the door creaked open slowly, the pace of its groans telling Patrick Pete wasn't sure if he should come in yet or not. He sighed softly, not tearing his gaze from the window, and gave one small nod of his head. He felt, more then heard, Pete rest against the sink, and somehow he knew that his arms were folded, a deep frown on his face, his tongue now and then poking the inside of his cheek, waiting for Patrick to say something. This was how it usually went; by then Patrick would have been more surprised he _didn't_ know it.

After what Patrick was sure was a half an hour, he heard Pete sigh, and now he would be passing a tattooed hand through his unruly black hair, again upset by Patrick's lack of ability to trust and confide in him about this. Pete had learned to not ask questions about why Patrick would loathe the rain, a repeating line since he first saw Patrick's tear-stained face shake back and forth frantically when Pete asked why. However, it still ate at him that Patrick would not talk.

Patrick heard him move, the slight rustle of his clothes telling him so. He could see Pete sit on the tub too, one leg on each side, before he felt Pete's arms wrap around his waist, pulling him until his back hit Pete's chest. He rested his head in the juncture between Patrick's shoulder and neck, one of his hands making small, comforting circles on Patrick's stomach.

"Patrick…"

Patrick tensed up as he felt Pete hands wipe at his cheek, feeling the liquid that he hadn't noticed before.

"Don't cry."

The tears fell more freely now, and he turned his body sideways so he could bury his head in Pete's collarbone. His body raked with silent sobs, hands fisting Pete's sleeves. Pete rubbed a Patrick's back soothingly, understanding as much as he didn't understand. He was content with Patrick there, feeling as if, in a way, Patrick had told him something with his tears, when he heard the sound; Patrick was talking, his voice muddled with crying.

"I was eight…"

Patrick didn't know why he decided to open up to Pete now. He felt, though, as if he should; it just seemed like Pete, at least, should know.

"…And my mom and I had gone to the store...we were out of bread."

Patrick sucked in a breath, letting it out shakily. His grip on Pete tightened, confirming Pete's thoughts that whatever had happened was a memory rathered forgotten. He didn't say a word, instead continuing to stroke Patrick's back, waiting for him to go on.

"When we left, it was raining, and mom didn't know it would, so…so she didn't have an umbrella or raincoat or anything. I-I didn't mind; I loved being in the rain. Any chance I got, I would be in it. When I was running, some kid tripped me, and I skidded pretty hard. Scraped my knees and hands. Mom saw; she told him off pretty bad, and he went running. Then, near this old factory…"

Patrick swallowed, his breath becoming ragged, but his voice held.

"A few men showed up. We didn't know them. They were blocking our-our way. Mom saw the kid that tripped me behind one of the guys, and she looked like she knew what was going on. I remember her shoving me behind a dumpster in the alley when they…they came closer, and said what they were going to do to her. It would be payback, they said. For messing with the kid. Mom tried to get them to stop, but there were…there were too many for her to have a chance. They… they did _things_ to her. And I saw it…all happen."

He took a deep breath, trying to stop the new onslaught of tears that wanted to cascade down.

"And when…when we got home, she told me to never tell dad, or anyone, what happened. To smile because everything would be ok. The first thing she did was clean my hands and knees. She…she'd been…yet she was worried about my stupid scratches."

Patrick felt his tears lessen. It was out. Maybe, even if Pete thought that this was too much to handle with someone like Patrick, it would be fine. Once it was anything but pity. Pete had kept still, listening to every word that left Patrick's mouth. Patrick wasn't sure that was a good thing. Now Pete would push him away, he was sure, and say he couldn't deal with this. He would leave, and Patrick would hate the rain all over again, this time for not being able to mask his tears. He felt Pete kiss the top of his head, just barely touching his lips to Patrick's hat. Patrick felt Pete's arms tighten around him as he moved a kiss to his cheek. One of his hands went to Patrick's chin, grabbing it softly.

"Patrick…look at me."

Patrick didn't raise his head. He wouldn't, not just to be heartbroken by Pete. No.

Pete frowned, holding on to his face with slightly more grip.

"Patrick, please."

Patrick sighed, slowly raising his head to meet Pete's eyes with his own sad, defeated ones. Pete kissed the corner of his mouth softly.

"I will be completely honest with you. Something like that has never happened to me. Ever. I can't say 'I know how you feel' or 'I completely understand'. I know that. But I do care about you, and if something like this was kept inside so long and hurting you, you should have told me before. You can tell me whatever's bothering you. You know that. I won't ever judge. You're everything to me Patrick, and I don't want to see you hurting so bad. The rain can be an awesome thing, Trick, just like you."

He brought his other hand up, stroking Patrick's jaw line.

"You know this already but…I love you, Patrick."

He joined his mouth to Patrick's, not even waiting to see Patrick's shocked, wide-eyed expression. Those were words they had never said to each other, at least not since they had just been best friends. Patrick let his eyes close, sinking into the kiss. It had so much feeling behind it, so much it was almost too much for Patrick to comprehend, as if he would burst from the passion. He felt Pete's tongue poking at his lips, and he blushingly allowed it, opening his mouth. The appendage swiped around his mouth, exploring every crevice and eliciting a muffled moan from Patrick's mouth. Pete pulled away slowly, a string of saliva keeping their lips connected, resting his forehead against Patrick's. Patrick's face was flushed, and somehow his hands were now on Pete's neck as Pete's were around his waist. Pete sighed, his chocolate- mint breath ghosting Patrick's face, trying to regulate his breathing. Patrick's own breathless, and his glazed eyes looked up at Pete in confusion.

"What…what was tha…?"

Pete bit the corner of his lip, his own face slightly coloring as he tried to think of a way to explain himself. He rested his head in the crook of Patrick's neck.

"Since I know why you hate being the rain, I just thought…if I could find a way to make you hate it less, like replace bad memories with good ones, it would help a bit. Even after that happened, you still seemed happier in the rain, even when you hate it."

Pete trailed off. That made no sense. That made absolutely no fucking sense. Pete squeezed his eyes shut as he counted silently in his head. Waiting for Patrick to start crying again and say in that sad, heart-wrenching voice that Pete could never be serious about anything. However, it never came. In its place, fingers slowly raked through his hair, and he heard the soft whisper of his name leave Patrick's lips. He raised his head, his wide-eyed browns staring straight into baby blue orbs. Patrick brought his other hand up, the warm softness of it pressing to Pete's cheek. He pressed his mouth to Pete's, catching him off guard, yet both ready for a tongue war. When he shifted his lips slightly off Pete's, he smiled at Pete's now puzzled face.

"What…?"

Patrick giggled. He kissed the corner of Pete's mouth, opposite to the side Pete had.

"I don't hate the rain anymore."

Pete grinned, hugging Patrick close to him. Patrick smiled into Pete's should before standing up, Pete's hand in his own. Pete stood as well, following Patrick to the door. With a hand on the handle, he looked back at Pete, blush clear under the shadow of his hat.

"Um….Pete?"

Pete quirked an eyebrow.

"What is it?"

Patrick kissed his cheek quickly, so innocently.

"I love you too."


End file.
